A Study in Emerald
by anondracomalfoy
Summary: His father had told him once that emotions were man's downfall. Narcissa was his, but the descent was so sweet that Lucius didn't mind waiting for the inevitable crash.


_**A Study in Emerald**_

Lucius Malfoy was hardly one to vocalize his emotions; it required far too much energy for his taste. And why _should _he broadcast his complex feelings for the entire world to see? It was no one else's business what he thought or felt; it was of no real concern to anyone but him. Perhaps it was one of many reasons why the world glanced down on him-why he was described as cold, bitter, and cruel. Callous by nature and harsh by choice, Lucius Malfoy had made it quite clear to the Wizarding World in his near twenty years of living that _sensitivity _and _sympathy _were the farthest things from his mind. He liked to think of himself as a rather detached sort of individual; it was his goal, essentially. After all, why would he _want_ to spend the rest of his life as a slave to the very emotions that were the downfall of so many others? Why would he _want_ to crack and crumble under the pressure of humiliation, fear, hopelessness, and so on and so forth? His father had told him one day many years ago that emotions were man's downfall; man's true weakness in life. He had cautioned Lucius against falling prey to his humanity-had sternly reminded his only son that Malfoys did _not _show weakness. They did not cry or shout or profess their love.

They simply...existed.

Lucius wondered if his determination at curbing and shutting down his emotions was out of fear of his father or a genuine desire to uplift his family name. Perhaps it was a bit of both, though he'd be damned before admitting the former out loud. Lucius was a very _boastful _sort of figure; he often times spent hours upon hours bragging of his family's heritage and rights to anyone who would listen. Some whispered that he was compensating for his family's controversial past; others wrote him off as an overly-arrogant figure. But their opinions didn't matter to him-not consciously, at least. In fact, Lucius Malfoy was quite certain that he could have spent his entire life under the scrutinizing eye of the public...just so long as one person in particular didn't think ill of him.

He didn't know why he gave a damn about her opinion; after spending so many months and years convincing himself that he needed the approval of no Wizard or Witch, he found it odd that he spent so much time transfixed on _her _views of him. It was possible that he respected her, though Lucius didn't know the exact meaning of the term.

So he studied her; observed her when no one else was looking. When everyone else looked straight through her, he was there-watching, studying, observing.

Because Merlin...she was the most captivating creature he'd ever encountered.

* * *

**October 20th, 1972**

He liked the way her hair fell across her shoulder to form a soft, blonde curtain. Her face was shielded from his gaze as she bent over a study desk in the Common Room, scribbling something down furiously on a scroll of parchment. So Lucius watched her with lips pressed together tightly, the N.E.W.T.-level copy of Potion Making perched in his lap long forgotten. His index finger idly brushed against the cover flap of his textbook, his eyes curious as he observed the young Witch in her natural habitat. She was dressed in a rather pristine manner, Lucius noted-her House robes looked as though they'd been freshly pressed and her shoes polished and shined. Her bright blonde hair shone out against the darkness of her robes magnificently, and Lucius spent a few moments appreciating the stark contrast before he heard her give a very feminine, very exasperated sort of sigh. It was quiet; soft and tired and gentle. The small exhalation of breath seemed to utter a thousand different phrases, and Lucius was once again astonished that one person could communicate so fully without speaking. He watched her tuck a strand of light blonde hair behind one ear; the movement was delicate and sophisticated of all bloody things, and it permitted the young Malfoy a glimpse at her side profile. The slope of her nose, her long lashes as they fluttered against her high cheekbones...

It wasn't until he heard someone else call her name that he directed his attention back down to the book sprawled across his lap.

"Narcissa? You got an owl from your sister."

And suddenly, in a flurry of black, emerald, and blonde, she was gone.

* * *

**November 5th, 1972**

Her voice was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, he decided. It was...warm and inviting; tender and gentle. Her voice was soothing in a sense that he couldn't understand, and as she sat next to him in Potions and quietly explained what ingredients they'd need for today's lab assignment, Lucius found himself mesmerized by the proper lilt in her tone. It spoke of much more than good breeding; it spoke of her calm nature, too. Lucius' grey eyes flickered down to her lips, watching the way her tongue seemed to caress each word she spoke. Her lips, full and tinted a rosy shade of pink, curved around the syllables she uttered, and if Lucius were at all a sentimental sort of man, he might have referred to the sight before him as a work of art. Because surely no one else had _ever _been able to make the act of speaking look quite so...effortlessly charming. Yes, that was the phrase he'd use: effortlessly charming.

"Does that make sense?" She asked suddenly, directing her attention away from her textbook in favor of studying her Potions partner's face. Lucius schooled his features immediately, clearing his throat and smoothing down his tie.

"The instructions were hardly necessary," He said, though not unkindly. "You're in luck, Black; you've been paired with a natural Potioneer."

"Is that so?" She asked, and Lucius swore he saw the corners of her lips quirk into a slight smile.

"Yes-you should know by now, of course, that my family is _exceptionally _skilled in the art of brewing potions," He continued, reaching for their cauldron and scooting it towards him. He struggled very hard to keep an air of sophistication during this process, an act that proved to be damn near impossible whenever he found himself in her presence. "It's why we've been able to maintain our own apothecary business for so long."

"Impressive," She quipped, a slight teasing undertone to her voice that insinuated she thought it was anything but.

"Yes, well...I'm glad you agree," was the only reply she received from him.

Somehow, some way, Narcissa Black had rendered Lucius Malfoy incoherent. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was so enthralled by the sound of her voice that it rendered him speechless. Not that he'd ever own up to such a thing, of course.

* * *

**December 12th, 1972**

Narcissa Black was a very prim sort of young woman, and it did nothing but worsen the effects of his...of his _fixation _on her. It was in her gait; in the way she walked with all of the sophistication and elegance of a young woman with an ingrained sense of good breeding and morals. Though softer in disposition and less blatantly haughty than himself, Narcissa Black's sense of Black pride and arrogance were still very prominent in the way she walked and held her head. It was fascinating to watch, truth be told-Lucius' eyes would often times flicker over towards the youngest Black sister, watching as she effortlessly weaved her way through a crowded throng of people with all of the grace that came with her family name. Her robes would billow out behind her in a flurry of black and green, and Lucius often times found himself studying her in silent amazement. She noticed him less often than he would have liked to admit; he noticed her at a near constant rate.

And it irritated him. It aggravated the Malfoy Heir to no end that _he_ spent so much bloody time observing her while _she_ seemed to give _him_ little to no thought at all. It wounded his pride far more than he would have willingly admitted, and so Lucius hid his disdain and humiliation behind smug remarks and witty repertoire.

He tried to pretend he didn't care-about her opinion, about her person, about _anything_ relating to her. But it was useless; years of hiding and curbing his emotions had gone to complete and utter shit.

Because he _did_ care-more than he would ever be able to properly express. And as he watched Narcissa depart from the Slytherin table and exit the Great Hall one afternoon, he silently mused over how his fascination with her walk was very symbolic of his attachment to her.

He would always be silently chasing after someone who had already walked away.

* * *

**December 31st, 1972**

Her sister, Bellatrix, had chosen to be married on the last day of the year-New Year's Eve. It was a grand sort of event; all respectable Pureblood families had been invited to the ceremony, and more than once Lucius had snuck a quick glance in the direction of the Black family's youngest daughter. She was clothed in a form-fitting dress that was colored a shimmering shade of green; it complimented her fair complexion and blonde hair rather nicely, he noted. His father had instructed for him to wear darkly-colored, expensive dress robes for the event; despite how cold the winter air was, Lucius found that the garments were almost too stuffy for his liking. They were heavy and thick; damn near excessive in appearance, though worthy of the Malfoy name.

It wasn't until the reception that he openly acknowledged her presence.

"The ceremony was...very traditional," He forced out, joining her on the balcony. She'd isolated herself from the rest of the reception party, vacating the ballroom in favor of leaning against the balcony's railing and watching the stars above. He thought she looked a bit like a painting, and as Lucius joined her on the balcony and rested his hands next to hers, he wondered if anyone would ever be able to accurately capture her beauty.

He doubted it.

"It was," Narcissa answered softly, surveying the sky above her. She was quiet for several moments, and when she at last spoke, she took Lucius by slight surprise. "My mother wanted the wedding to be a grand sort of event. She wanted to...to make up for..." She trailed off, clearing her throat and sniffing. Lucius leaned towards her slightly, inadvertently causing one of his fingers to brush against hers. He stilled immediately, pulling his hand away.

"To make up for what?" He asked finally, astonished by his boldness. Selfish, entitled, and arrogant he might have been, but showcasing interest or active involvement in anyone else's life was strictly..._against the rules_ for Lucius. It went against his entire way of thinking; of behaving. But despite his irritation with himself, he couldn't help but feel concern for the Witch standing next to him. She seemed so...forlorn, he supposed; he couldn't quite place the emotion.

"My sister left last summer," She breathed, inhaling shakily. Lucius gave a stiff nod-he'd heard all about that, of course. It had been quite the talk of the community-the House of Black had been instantly sneered at by some of the other elitist Pureblood families. Lucius' father, Abraxas, had been among the scrutinizers. "She...well, she's been disowned. She's gone. I know what people say about me-I know that they think I'm a Blood Traitor. Filthy and tainted...I'm fully aware of the remarks being made about me whenever I exit a room."

She sounded hurt; like some wounded and injured animal that had been subjected to the most vicious and cruel parts of society. And Lucius _hated_ them for it-hated all of them for causing her such distress. For blaming her for her sister's traitorous ways.

"You are not your sister," He answered finally; the words were difficult to force out and he was certain his throat was swelling shut. Any introduction of complex emotions frightened Lucius, and as much as he wanted to walk away and desert any sort of sentimentality that came with being near this woman...he couldn't. He just couldn't. "Anyone who thinks otherwise is ignorant and not worthy of shining your shoes."

She turned to look at him-slowly, and with a great deal of care-and Lucius felt uncomfortable under the heat of her gaze. She seemed to be studying him; intently, and with quite a bit of skepticism. As though she was really seeing him for the first time. Lucius turned his grey eyes on her, watching as she gazed up and down his form. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and the impulse to lean forward and kiss her sorrow away was so overwhelming that Lucius was nearly disgusted with himself for it.

"Thank you," She said finally, sliding her hand across the railing and resting it on top of his. Her touch was warm and gentle; her hand much smaller than his own. He glanced back and forth between the hand resting on top of his and the gaze that refused to break his own, at a loss for words.

"You've been a good friend to me, Lucius," She continued, brushing a thumb across one of his knuckles. He forced a smile-tight-lipped and strained-before disentangling himself from her touch.

Friend, yes. He'd been a good _friend_.

* * *

**January 20th, 1973**

The first time he heard someone insult her since the New Year's incident was at the end of January-Lucius had been seated in the Common Room, lazily flipping through the latest edition of _The Daily Prophet_, when he heard some of his House mates sneering and jeering at the Black sisters. Most specifically, the youngest.

"Hardly worthy of calling herself a Slytherin anymore, wouldn't you agree?" One of them snickered; Lucius recognized the young man as a boy often referred to as Avery. "I say we force her to go through the Sorting all over again-I'll be damned if we let a _Blood Traitor_ in our House. Their family's hardly worthy of calling themselves Purebloods anymore; it's pathetic, really, that she dared to show up at school again this year."

The copy of the paper had crumpled in Lucius' hands, and without so much as a second thought to his actions, the young blond stood and brandished his wand. Within an instant, Lucius had the tip of his wand pressed against the boy's jaw, his lips pressed together slightly as he sneered down at the greasy-haired prat who had spoken ill of Narcissa. Lucius might have been considered a coward; he was snide and crude and above violence that didn't permit the use of a wand, but he'd be _damned_ if he was going to let Narcissa's name be soiled.

"Speak again," He clipped out, jutting his chin forward and glaring down at the wide-eyed boy. "And I'll make sure the rest of the school is informed of your _own_ filthy blood."

"I don't _have_ any filthy blood in my veins," Avery spat, narrowing his beady eyes in Lucius' direction. The blond merely smirked, his eyes cold as he gripped the handle of his wand more firmly.

"Yes, but no one else _knows_ that, do they?"

Avery shut up after that.

* * *

**February 14th, 1973**

Lucius hated Valentine's Day-hated what it stood for, what it entitled, and how everyone he knew blew it out of proportions. He liked to ignore the day's existence entirely, truth be told...a rather impossible feat when given the excessive decorations and conversations revolving around the day. So he stayed to himself; scowled at anyone who met his gaze and scoffed at the couples showcasing their love for one another in elaborate manners. So determined to ignore the day, Lucius himself wasn't even directly addressed until later that evening when he was sitting alone on a bench in the courtyard.

"Hello, Lucius," Narcissa greeted, smoothing down her skirt before taking a seat next to him. Lucius turned to glance at her, giving a slight nod of his head in recognition of her presence and stuffing one hand into the pocket of his robes. He didn't know what to say to her, honestly; he _never_ knew what to say to her. Finally, he settled with-

"Good evening, Narcissa."

She grew quiet after that, drawing her hands into her lap and fiddling with them nervously. Lucius watched her out of the corner of his eye, bemused over her nervous mannerisms. Had something happened? Something with her family? He wanted to ask-desperately, in fact-but his pride prohibited him from doing so. Instead, he grew quiet; if she really needed to speak with him, then she would. He was certain.

"I heard what you did," She said finally, her voice rather expectant. Lucius met her stare with a blank gaze.

"A few weeks ago...in the Common Room," She clarified, watching him closely. "Someone overheard your...discourse with Avery and told me."

"Ah," He said finally, sniffing and shifting uncomfortably from his seat by the bench. At a complete loss for words, he turned to face forward, peering out over the horizon and watching as the sun set around them.

"...And I wanted to say thank you," She continued, causing Lucius to stiffen from head to toe. Without giving him the chance to properly react, Narcissa leaned forward and-in an emboldened act-brushed her lips across his cheek.

"So thank you, Lucius," She whispered, her breath warm against his skin. He noticed that she smelled of roses; a surprisingly enticing scent that he wished to inhale greedily. It wasn't until she pulled away and had collected her belongings that he even bothered to glance in her direction. And there she was, walking away from him once more...

And Lucius was smitten all over again.

* * *

**March 28th, 1973**

Narcissa took more notice of him now than she ever had before. She would sit near him at lunch, in class, and even in the Common Room. She didn't speak much, though Lucius didn't mind; it was in the silence that passed between them where he felt most comfortable. Most secure. Sometimes she would rest her arm against his-other times her fingers would skim the ridges of his knuckles. It was the small touches and collisions that set him on edge and caused his heart to pound in his chest; it was the ways in which he reacted to her that caused him to acknowledge the single thought that he was too terrified to admit out loud.

Lucius Malfoy was falling in love with Narcissa Black.

They were seated in the library today-working on their N.E.W.T. level assignments together. And it was now, in the silence of the spacious room, that Lucius acknowledged what he loved. It was everything about her; it was the way her lips would lift into a small smile whenever he'd amused her; it was how she'd brush that long blonde hair over one shoulder. It was the way she sighed and the way she yawned; how she smelled and how she felt. It was everything and it was nothing-it was impossible to ignore his feelings, just as it had been impossible to ignore everything that had been so alluring about her initially.

He'd failed, then, in his mission to shut down basic human feelings and responses. His father had been right-emotions were man's downfall.

Narcissa was his, but the descent was so sweet that Lucius didn't mind waiting for the inevitable crash.

* * *

**April 13****th, ****1973**

Lucius took some time to himself to think more specifically about what it was, exactly, he adored so strongly about the woman who had grown to mean the world to him. He had spent so much time studying her; so many hours of the day wondering how the world could have created someone as beautiful as her. He was more certain now than ever before that there was no one else in the world so like himself; no one he would rather spend the rest of his days with. He was young and arrogant and full of promise, but the only person he gave a damn about aside from himself was Narcissa Black.

Nothing else mattered. Just her.

He had tried to distance himself from her; school would be ending soon and she would be moving on. They would head their separate ways and that would be the end of…of whatever sort of friendship they'd built together. He couldn't see her seeking him out after Hogwarts; even the mere thought of Narcissa Black sitting down and writing him a letter or two over the course of the summer was damn near laughable. She would move on and forget about him…it wounded his pride to admit as much, but it was the truth. She was destined for a life of greatness that wouldn't include him.

It was time for Lucius to bury his childish notions of love and leave Narcissa Black behind. She would move on, and…so would he.

* * *

**May 29****th****, 1973**

"Are you nervous for exams, Lucius?"

"Not at all."

"Oh? So sure of yourself?" She stifled a laugh, and Lucius had to turn his face down to glance at his textbook to fight off the smirk that was itching to spread across his pale features.

"Of course," He scoffed, finally managing a glance at her. She was fiddling with her school robes, brushing over the emerald lining that set her apart as a member of Slytherin House. "What about you?"

"Oh, I…" She trailed off, sighing once before shaking her head and tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I don't know. I'm not sure what my skills are."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't…know what I want to do," She murmured, biting down on her lower lip. "After Hogwarts."

"I'm sure you'll find something," Lucius answered awkwardly; he'd never been very skilled at comforting others.

"What are you going to do, Lucius?" She asked suddenly, lifting those brilliant blue eyes to meet his gaze.

"I had planned on taking over the family business," He drawled, sniffing and tugging on his House robes. Truthfully, it was the only option he'd _bothered_ to consider—it was more of an obligation than a choice.

"I wish it was that easy for me," She said, waving her hand once and glancing back down at the rolls of parchment spread before her.

"You'll be fine, Narcissa, don't worry," He found himself saying, his voice surprisingly soft. "You're brilliant."

She paused, growing still before glancing up at him. She studied Lucius carefully for a few moments; as though she couldn't quite believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. Not that he could blame her, exactly-hell, the compliment shocked _him_.

"Andromeda was always the intelligent one," She answered finally, her voice quiet. It wasn't often that Narcissa spoke of her Blood Traitor sister these days, and the slight struggle that came with enunciating her banished sibling's name shocked Lucius. There was an awkward bit of silence that lapsed in which Lucius searched for the speech that had evaded him with such ease. Finally he leaned forward, glancing around the Common Room to make sure that they were still alone before whispering—

"You're better than your sister. Than both of them."

"That's…Bellatrix hasn't done anything wrong," Narcissa replied stiffly, smoothing her robes and averting his gaze.

"No," Lucius answered finally, his throat aching with each syllable he choked out. "But she's not you."

* * *

**June 18****th****, 1973**

They hadn't spoken much since that day in the Common Room. Lucius had been certain that he'd offended her somehow—maybe comparing the youngest Black sister to her two elder siblings had been a foolish move on his part. Lucius didn't have much skill when it came to speaking on a deeply emotional level—he was charismatic and eloquent, yes, but something else entirely when it came to the young woman who had captivated him so entirely. He told himself that it was for the best, their severed ties with one another; he would need the summer to focus on taking over the family business and situating himself in life. Narcissa would move back home and would marry into a wealthy family. Perhaps it was…best that she forget him, then; that he move on and walk forward in life alone. He'd spent far too much time, really, fixating on a Witch who wasn't likely to reciprocate his feelings.

He told himself this, but he didn't believe it. Not one damn bit.

Exams had come and gone and the students of Hogwarts were packing up to head home…for what would be the final time for one Lucius Malfoy. He had already taken the liberty of having his trunk taken to the Hogwarts Express early; it was sitting alone in one of the compartments that was destined for him. Meanwhile, Lucius was taking the time to bid some of his fellow Housemates goodbye; it wasn't until he was prepared to board the train that he heard someone call his name.

"Lucius!"

Perplexed, the young blond turned around, his brows furrowed together in a state of wonder. He saw a flash of long blonde hair and a set of bright blue eyes seeking him out—Narcissa Black was weaving her way through the throng of people with as much grace and poise possible. It seemed to come effortlessly to her, and he watched as the rich green robes she was wearing seemed to shimmer in the bright spring sun. By the time she had finally approached Lucius, her cheeks were tinged a delicious shade of pink, and before the young Malfoy could question her rather unexpected presence, Narcissa was grabbing fistfuls of Lucius' school robes, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against his mouth. Her lips were warm and soft as they moved against his own, and after a moment of initial shock, Lucius blinked and hesitantly kissed her back. By the time Narcissa had pulled away, Lucius was little more than a bemused mess.

"…What was that for?" He managed finally, struggling to compose himself. He tried to fix his features into cool indifference, but it was in vain.

"I realized something today," She replied, jutting her chin forward.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"No one else will ever be you."

Lucius grew silent, studying her in such awe and wonder that it was bloody remarkable she hadn't commented on it. He opened his mouth numerous times, fighting to find the words that refused to come to him.

"Narcissa, I…"

"It's okay," She murmured, lifting a hand hesitantly to rest against his cheek. "Will you come sit by me?"

It was a simple question; one that ordinarily would have meant nothing. But to him—to the relationship he shared with Narcissa—it meant everything.

"Yes," He replied, finding his voice. He hoped that…that Narcissa understood what he was trying to say. That she was able to comprehend the words that were so difficult for him to utter. It wasn't until they'd boarded the Hogwarts Express and had taken their seats, however, that Lucius came to realize just how well Narcissa Black knew him.

"Lucius?" She asked, that prim undertone lacing her voice.

"Hmmm?"

"I know how I want to spend my life after Hogwarts now."

He glanced at her then, his grey eyes absorbing in the delicate frame and build of the Witch seated across from him. He was scared stiff, truly—of this, of what he felt for her, and for what the future would hold. But with her…hell, with her anything seemed possible. And then, to his astonishment, Lucius smiled; a soft gesture that communicated the words he couldn't find the strength to murmur.

_ I love you, too._

* * *

**a/N:** Hello everyone! I've been working on this one shot for a little while; I would have been finished with it a week or so ago, but I haven't had a computer for most of the month of August. This one shot is a late one shot for my friend Jessica on tumblr-happy late birthday! I hope you've enjoyed this! I thought it would be interesting to write a Lucissa one shot from Lucius' point of view for once, given that writing Narcissa is my norm. Either way, I hope you all enjoy! And please, don't forget to review!


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